Madeline offered the driver all the money she had with a prayer that it was sufficient. When he tried to give her change, she sighed with relief and gestured that he should keep the difference. He looked pleased and offered to wait for her, but Madeline knew that she had no money for a return trip and so told the man that he could go.
At first, she did not see her brother or anyone else. The morning was damp and shrouded in mist. A chill wind swung through the open field and bit into her like a hungry mongrel. She walked a short distance, pulling her hooded pelisse tightly around her body. She actually heard them before she saw them. Just as Marie told her, the duel was held in Leicester Fields, the open country behind Montagu House on the edge of London.
Someone was counting off paces, and at the call of nine, a pistol shot was fired, piercing the silence of morning air. Madeline began to run, realizing in horror that she had been too late to stop them. As she came into the clearing, another shot sounded. Panic seized her.
A woman shrieked. Was that her? She hardly knew what she was doing. The scene played before her like a nightmare. Gareth lay on the ground bleeding. She started toward him, but two strong hands held her back.
“William,” she said in a startled voice, surprised to see her friend here. “Does Constance know about this?”
“No, and we shan’t tell her. He’s going to be all right, Madeline. The ball is in his shoulder.”“
“What about Roland?”
“Gareth didn’t even touch him. Although I must inform you that your brother deliberately turned and shot him on the count of nine, not having the decency or courage to obey the rules.”
She saw the strong disapproval on William Havington’s face.
“Roland did that?” Her reaction was one of disbelief.
“Yes, I must say Gareth used amazing restraint. Blood dripping down his arm, he took careful aim and with due deliberation shot off the lacing of your brother’s left boot.”
“Mon Dieu! I must go to him. We must speak!”
“Madeline, what are you doing here?”
She turned and saw the rage on her brother’s face. “Roland, I must speak with him. I must make certain he is all right.”
Her brother bared his very white teeth at her, hissing through them. “You will not. Get into the carriage at once. You are shaming us. Have a care to your reputation. Obey me or you will live to regret it!”
Madeline turned her eyes toward Gareth. A surgeon was bending over him, wiping blood away. Suddenly, his eyes met her own, and she moved toward him.
“Sorry,” he said. “So sorry. I wanted to tell you.”
She began to cry. “Please don’t die,” she sobbed.
Their hands joined for a moment. She was then lifted by Roland’s valet, who carried her off though she struggled to free herself. Madeline thought she heard Gareth call out her name. In her struggle to free herself, she pummeled her captor wildly. She hardly knew why or how she lost consciousness, but at that moment she suddenly felt dizzy and the world began to spin and blacken.
Madeline awoke to find herself in her own carriage, held by her brother. The coach was in motion, she realized. As she tried to sit up, Roland gripped her tightly. “Rest yourself. You should not have come. You fainted in Jean’s arms. I will have some words for Marie when we get back, you may be assured. How dare she let you go when I left strict instructions.”
“It was not her fault. I overpowered the woman. I was so afraid of what might happen.”
“To me or to your lover?” Roland’s voice was sharp as a dagger.
She did not bother to reply. In truth, she did not know the answer. Why should she care? Neither her brother nor Gareth had treated her well. Yet, she seemed to care a great deal. And Gareth had tried to apologize to her.
It was not until they returned to the townhouse that Madeline realized she was still her brother’s prisoner. “Surely, you will not confine me again,” she said to Roland as he escorted her up the stairs to her room.
“I regret, cherie, that is exactly what I must do for the present. My affairs take me back to Paris for a few months. During that time, you will remain here. You will be well cared for I assure you. When you are rid of this unwanted nuisance, you will be free again.” He looked ominously at her abdomen.
“You cannot mean that you will imprison me here for months on end!”
Roland shrugged dispassionately. “Unless you wish to end this foolishness. I could have it arranged. It would most certainly be in the best interests of all of us.”
Her only response was a vehement shake of her head.
“Then you have made your decision, ma chere. I will return as soon as I am able and make further arrangements for you. Everything will be taken of.” He gave her a cold smile, thoroughly chilling her. “I will arrange a proper match for you. Once you are safely married, then we will begin your training. When you have won the King’s favor, then you will properly thank me for all I have done for you.”
The next thing she knew, Madeline was once again locked into her room. Roland did not come to say goodbye to her, but she knew when he left; she could see him from the window early the next morning. The coachman and footman carried his bags and those of his valet into the carriage and drove away.
Madeline was not sorry to see Roland leave. She immediately began planning how she would escape her captivity. It seemed absurd that her own bedchamber had become a prison cell for her, but she had to face reality, no matter how painful it was.
She could not trust her brother. Although he had promised not to try to kill the life that was growing within her, she could not believe him any longer. She was certain now that her brother was a ruthless man. He would justify his decision by saying that the child she carried was nothing but an unwanted bastard.
No, she could not allow Roland to make her decisions for her, for in spite of what he said; she no longer believed that he had her best interests at heart. Whether the child she carried was to live or die, that decision was not to be made by Roland. Madeline felt strongly that this child was truly a part of her life and must be protected from destruction. There was no question that she had to leave her home. There was no point in seeking out Gareth. He could not really help her now. Probably at this moment, the surgeon was removing the ball from his shoulder. He would be weak and ill for a time. How could she possibly ask his help? And what little pride she had left, she wished to keep intact.
Madeline took a mental inventory. She had Maman’s jewels and some small amount of coin. She could sell the jewels slowly and live off the proceeds. That would keep her for a time. Of course, she would have to find some way in which to support herself and her child. Obviously, she could no longer depend on her brother. There were those in France who would help her if she went to them, but that would shame Roland. She knew he could not bear the disgrace. No, she must stay in this foreign country and make the best of things.
Her only thought was that her Scottish cousins might be able to help her decide what to do. She trusted Anne’s wisdom. Although she hated the thought of having to face Andrew, the Highlands seemed the only place where she might be safe. Perhaps she could have her babe there. Afterwards, there would be plenty of time to think of what she might do with the rest of her life. Surely other women managed to raise children all alone; she must simply be strong – if not for herself then for the new life she carried within her.
The first few days, Madeline found no way out of her room. Each time Marie brought her food, Madeline spoke to the older woman. Marie would not meet her eyes, nor would she engage in any conversation. But Madeline refused to give up. Perhaps it was the Scottish part of her that stubbornly refused to acquiesce and merely accept the fate that her brother had ordained for her, or possibly it was the realization that she had always accepted what other people said was best for her. It was time that she made decisions for herself, and for better or worse, took her fate into her own hands. She knew that persistence was the only chance for her t
o convince her mother’s maid.
“Marie, I want you to have the coach made ready. I am leaving here. I will not be kept a prisoner in my own home any longer. You know Maman left me this house. She did not like Roland or trust him. He treated her miserably. How can you side with him? I will keep you with me if you like, but do not sell yourself to him. I implore you; do what is right, Marie. Maman would want me to return to her Scottish cousins. That is where I will go. You may come too.”
Suddenly, there were tears in the maid’s eyes. “Mademoiselle, I only did what I thought was right.”
“We all make mistakes, Marie. I believe Maman would have forgiven me mine. You must do so too. I must live my life as best I can.”
Marie’s eyes met her own and the older woman nodded. “I will order them to prepare your coach and I will help you prepare for your journey, but I will not go with you, my child. I think you are making a mistake, yet I agree that it is your right to do so. I see now that you are ready to take charge of your own life.”
Madeline inclined her head toward her mother’s maid. She touched the lined forehead and the graying strands of hair at the older woman’s temples. “You will see, Marie, that this is for the best. I must follow my own instincts in this matter.”
“Le bon Dieu protect you.”
Madeline prepared herself for travel. The dress with her mother’s jewelry sewn into it was packed. She selected what she would take with her very carefully. She needed clothing that was warm and serviceable. She took not a single elegant gown, for there would be no dancing for her, nor could she fit into any of her old finery. Her simple sacque dresses, some warm cloaks, serviceable boots, these were what she required. Above all else, she needed money. Her coachman and footman must be given something extra for their services; otherwise, perhaps they would balk at disregarding her brother’s wishes. After all, Roland was her guardian and he was the one paying their wages.
She went down to the study quietly, feeling like an intruder in her own home. She walked purposefully toward the fine oak desk that had belonged to her father. The top drawer of the desk was locked, but Madeline knew where the key was kept. She reached her hand under the gold-edged blotter and smiled when her hand touched a small piece of metal. Quickly, she opened the top drawer, and yes, there was money there. Papa had always kept English pound notes ready in case they were needed in a hurry. That, at least, had not changed. The bills were tucked into a corner, discreetly pressed into a small leather folder. Perhaps Roland had never thought to look in that corner of the desk. He did not know her Papa’s habits, and her mother had changed nothing from the time of her father’s death.
Madeline carefully counted the money. There was well over two hundred pounds. She felt a great sense of relief sweep over her. If she were frugal, as she planned to be, the money could last her quite some time.
Her first test came in dealing with the fish-eyed butler who tried to order her back to her room. Madeline stood her ground. “This is my house,” she told him. “How dare you tell me what to do! I will call the magistrate down upon you if you try to do anything to impede my freedom!” With that, she flounced out of the room, not giving the man time to think about what she was doing.
When the carriage was brought around, Madeline gave her coachman and the footman each five pounds. “For you,” she said. “For your extra trouble. There will be much more when we reach Scotland.”
They both looked pleased and rushed to do her bidding. As the coach made its way out of London, Madeline breathed a deep sigh of relief. She had done it; she had actually freed herself! Maman had said that a woman must have a husband in order to live well, and perhaps that was so. Yet, even if she did not live well alone, she knew that she would manage to survive and take care of her child. She did not need Roland or Andrew or even Gareth Eriksen for that matter.
And yet as the coach rolled along, she thought with a great sigh how wonderful it might have been if Gareth Eriksen had truly been the kind of man she dreamed he was when they had first met. Even now, closing her eyes, she could picture the magnificent physical specimen of manhood that he was: the massive shoulders, the powerful arms, the muscular thighs. She could feel his burning hot kisses, remembering all too well how they made her feel.
What was wrong with her? The man was a rutting swine! It was because of him that she was in this predicament – yet still she desired him. Perhaps he’d been right about her: she was a wanton woman. Certainly, she had no common sense where Gareth Eriksen was concerned for she still yearned for him. Had Roland not prevented it, would she have simply fallen into the man’s arms again if he’d wished. She had no answers to her own questions, and that frightened her.
Twenty
“What do you mean, she’s gone!” Gareth rose to face William Havington.
“Careful, man, don’t get so overwrought, you’ll send the fever spiking all over again.”
“I’m fine,” Gareth said. “That surgeon was something of a butcher is all. I’ve had worse than this you may be certain and survived it. Once I was leeched and the blood purified, I began to heal properly. I took a little longer than expected to mend, but I’ve recovered enough to go and make another visit to the de Marnays.”
“One would have thought you’d seen enough of that family,” William drawled; his face betrayed amusement. “I rather would have thought you had the good sense not to compromise the reputation of such a young lady.”
“So would I.” He could not even bring himself to smile.
“A tendency toward self-destruction no doubt,” Havington said, drawling dryly.
Gareth thought of his mother just then. He might have said that a proneness to suicide was obviously an inherited trait, but he could not bring himself to make light of something that was still very painful to him. In the end, Gareth did not bother to respond to his friend’s jibes. “Where’s she gone?”
“How the devil should I know?”
“Constance will know. You might do me the favor of asking. Did Madeline return to the continent with that bandy little cock of a brother?”
At that, William guffawed. “How droll, De Marnay is quite that, isn’t he? Quite a puffed up sort of fellow. Actually, he left for the continent alone a few days before Madeline flew off. I know that for a fact because my curious spouse happened to be watching from her window as he went off. That was when Constance called again, thinking that she would be finally admitted to see Madeline, but she was still refused. Yesterday, she went back once more. Constance is nothing if not persistent. She’s furious at how they’ve treated her. This time, she was told that Madeline had gone away. The whole thing’s got my lady rather perplexed. She thinks of Madeline as a close friend and believes that something is amiss.”
“Your wife may be right. I believe Madeline would have spoken to me if she were allowed to do so. That brother of hers is ruling with a very heavy hand. I must know where she’s gone,” he said, grinding down on his back teeth in determination.
“Why is it so dreadfully important?” William asked, cocking a sandy brow.
Gareth didn’t wish to answer his friend’s question, but Havington was his second in the duel with de Marnay; he owed William that much civility. “I have a responsibility toward her, it would seem.”
“Is it only that?” William’s eyes probed his own.
Gareth turned away uneasily. “What else would it be?”
“You have enjoyed her favors, I gather.”
Gareth gave a curt nod of his head.
“I thought when I saw her that she was altered. I gather that is why you wish to see her.”
“You gather correctly. I will go back to the house tomorrow and one way or another, I will find out where she’s gone.” His jaw jutted with determination.
“Don’t tell me that London’s most notorious rake is actually considering marriage!”
“That is yet to be determined. And I was never London’s worst rake.” Gareth kept his tone of voice cool and dispassio
nate. “I believe you were.”
Havington smiled broadly. “A matter of opinion, my friend. You actually might succumb? How amusing, you with a wife!” Havington laughed loudly. “Imagine all the women that will cry themselves to sleep when that tidbit of information is made public.”
Gareth bared his pearly teeth. “Friend or no friend, I may decide to beat you into the ground.”
“Sorry, it’s just the idea of you actually considering marriage that amazes me. You, leg-shackled like the rest of us poor devils.”
“Well, if you want the truth, it amazes me just as much,” he responded grimly.
♥ ♥ ♥
It was Marie, who finally told him the truth of Madeline’s whereabouts. He could not believe that he would actually have to chase after her again, back to Scotland; it was unthinkable! He could simply forget about her, of course. She would hardly expect him to come after her. And she had made it quite clear that she hated him – not that he actually blamed her, especially if he were wrong about her and had accused her falsely. He had come to think that his suspicious nature had prompted him to do exactly that.
He also had to admit that it was not only a question of owing her a proper apology. The fact was that he could not stop thinking about her. Often he woke in the night feeling aroused, knowing that he had been dreaming of her, of holding her in his arms and making love to her. He never dreamt of any other woman, only Madeline de Marnay. He thought about her often in his waking moments as well. The passion between them had been so perfect and potent. He felt so much more for her than he had for any other woman. She truly had become an obsession for him. He hardly understood it at all, aware that it was either a form of foolishness or insanity. Surely, if he just had her once more, he would realize the folly of these feelings. It must have been the novelty of her; that was all. Yet why had he completely lost control of himself that way, given in to a fit of rage that was completely unlike him? She did have a very strange effect upon him and he didn’t think he liked it very much at all. Still, he had to concede that the fault lay within him. Could he forget the girl if he really tried?
The Chevalier Page 20